


Misunderstandings

by UltraVioletSoul



Category: Call of Duty
Genre: Cheesy, F/M, Fluff, OOC, Oneshot, Reader-Insert, kinda smut?, or lime?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2015-08-09
Packaged: 2018-04-13 21:19:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4537758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UltraVioletSoul/pseuds/UltraVioletSoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John knew it would not be an easy task, but he never imagined it would be this hard.</p><p>[[ John MacTavish x F!Reader ]]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Misunderstandings

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this fic a long time ago and posted it on other sites. It never occurred to me to publish it here, though. Until now, at least. 
> 
> This is something I did because my friends asked me to write some SoapxReader stuff. It took me centuries because I tend to procrastinate a lot, but I managed to get it done. Bear in mind that this fic is almost a year old, and I was going through a phase of cheesiness at that moment. Also, my writing was not that good back then.
> 
> I suck at British slang and even more so at Scottish slang but I hope you enjoy, nonetheless :)
> 
> **************************  
>  **Disclaimer:**
> 
> I do not own Call of Duty Modern Warfare or its characters. They all belong to Activision and Infinity Ward. No copyright infringement intended. All I’m trying to do is provide entertainment to the readers and by no means do I have lucrative purposes.

**********************

_Relax. Take a break and try to get away from the world, at least for some time_. That was what Price had advised him to do, right? Spending winter with you was not such a bad idea, after all, even when he didn't like to be cold. John could stand it, for the most part, but that didn't mean he liked having his arse freezing out in the wild. Also, it had been a long time ever since he had the chance to be alone with you, so this was the perfect occasion to catch up with many things he had missed. Heavens knew he needed it so bad because, for the past months, he'd been in the most unimaginable places with the constant dangers that included, but were not limited to, being ambushed and killed or, worse, captured.

He guessed he couldn't complain about that. This was the line of work he had chosen, for better or for worse. He was happy that you didn't have to make him endless questions about it, as he preferred keeping his personal life separated from his job. While he never told you that he was part of a special operations force, he knew you suspected something with what the secrecy that surrounded his work. Either way, you never mentioned a word about it, much to his relief. You just seemed content with the fact that he always came home safe and sound, and not in a plastic bag— if _they_ went out of their way to retrieve his remains, of course. Perhaps that was one of the reasons why he fought so hard to stay alive, even when the odds would probably not be on his side. Not that they always were, at any rate.

Still, it was nice to know that there was someone waiting for him at home. It was even nicer the fact he had a home to return to. At times like this, he understood his mates when they said they missed their wives and their kids. Sadly, sometimes they had to spend months and months on end away from their loved ones, for the sake of protecting them from threats they didn't even know about.

He wasn't going to pretend he was a hero— only the fallen retained such honor— but he liked to think he was serving his country, and maybe the world, well. If he could protect you from danger, it was enough for him. It sounded corny, and John would never dare say this to your face, but his experiences had taught him what was really important and he knew, now more than ever, that it was you. It was you that made him feel human, even after all he had seen and done. You made him believe the world had some good, once more.

Maybe it was time to take that decisive step in his life, once and for all. _Bloody hell_ , he didn't even know where to begin.

“Something wrong, John?”

He had spaced out like an idiot all this time in the car, he realized. He too noticed that you were worried about him, as you gave him a troubled look. There were so many things in his life he could have admitted were not right— many things that undoubtedly were not right— but at that moment he couldn't bring himself to remember a single one. He didn't want to recall them, either. He only knew that being with you felt so right he wished the feeling would never stop.

Shaking his head, he stared at the snowy landscape outside and smiled ever so slightly, before meeting your eyes again. “Should there be?”

“Of course not.” You laughed and pecked his stubbly cheek, lingering just a little longer to breathe in his wonderful scent. You had missed him so much these months and it was so thrilling to know that you had him all for yourself now. “You had me a little worried for a moment. I mean, I always worry but… it’s just that… well, I… you know.” You began to fumble with your words, burying your face on his shoulder because you always felt so embarrassed at times like this, being so close to him. “I mean, it’s not like it bothers me but I care for you and...” It was getting more awkward by the moment and you groaned in frustration, failing to notice the slight shaking movement of his body. “You know what? Don’t mind me. You know your girlfriend is a dork.”

It was nice getting a good laugh every now and then, though, and it wasn't like he was doing it at your expense— well, maybe a bit but he wasn't making fun of you. John mostly found your ways cute and endearing; when you were not having sex, at least. Speaking of that… no, perhaps _not_ speaking of that, he thought as he hurried out of the car and left a confused you behind.

As he opened the boot of the car, he lingered on certain thoughts for too long, chiding himself for not handling this in a much better way. He'd never done this before, did not even know what to make of it. What kind of man has a relationship for almost five years and never proposes? Probably one who is not serious about his intentions. Granted he wasn't ready some time ago and you had never pressed on the matter, like the partners of some of his mates, but there just had been a lot going on his life and never once did he think about what you wanted. It was always about him, about his scars, about his feelings and desires, about his pain and fears.

“John, is there something bothering you?” Your voice called and he looked up to see you bracing yourself from the cold in your thin cardigan, standing close to him. It was clear that he was being too obvious about this and he had to mentally face-palm for that. They called him one of the best at what he did but when it came to relationships he didn't have the foggiest idea of what to do— where to head to.

It was a good thing that you could lead the way and he was always happy to oblige.

“It’s nothing.” He smiled for good measure, but you didn't look convinced. “I promise it’s nothing you should be concerned about, hun.”

“All right, I’m sorry.” Why you were even apologizing, he wondered. You did the strangest things, sometimes, but in truth that was one of the reasons he loved you and held you dear to him. “You know you can talk to me if you need it.” Oh, you always had to give him that innocent smile and it was all you had to do to leave him at a loss for words. Or more like desirous to crush his lips against yours and take you in his arms and do— “Would you help me with these, please?”

And so the rest of the evening was pretty much uneventful, as you two arranged the cabin for your stay. Just a few days away from civilization to have some time alone with you, John thought while preparing the fireplace. You were putting the groceries away and he still needed to make sure everything was in order before he could even think about sleeping that night.

After you had put most things away, and took what you needed to cook for dinner, you poked your head in the sitting room and spotted him grumbling between gritted teeth, as he attempted to get the fire going. You couldn't help but smile because it had been so long ever since you had the chance to enjoy these little moments with him. Something so simple as having a meal together meant so much and there were so many things you had to share and talk. You would prepare his favorite dish and cuddle with him before going to sleep. There was much that you had missed during the time he was away and you couldn't wait. It had felt an eternity since you were in his arms and wrapped in his embrace. At that moment you just wanted to run to him and smooch the living days out of him until he begged you to stop.

“ _Bugger_.”

“Need some help there?” You offered cheerfully and his shoulders slumped, accompanied by a sigh of defeat.

“I’m just fine," he muttered, without looking at you, and you tilted your head in concern. You knew there was something bothering him but he wouldn't let you in on it. Here you were thinking about getting in his pants when, clearly, he wasn't feeling alright. Five years in a relationship should have taught you his ways, but you also knew you could not force him to talk about something he was not ready to face. He had enough to deal with when on duty and you did not want to bug him any more than it was necessary. Or at all.

“Alright, maybe you want a shot of hot toddy? How about chicken casserole for dinner?” Your voice reached from the kitchen as you hurried to get everything in order, and he could sense just how hard you were trying to make him feel comfortable and at ease. He only wished you didn't have to worry so much about him, if truth be told. This awkwardness between you two was not right— it should not be present to cast its shadow over your relationship. It only took him a moment to realize that it had been him the one who had opened the door to it, and now he was making things look more complicated than they were.

He wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. That was not so difficult to understand. Through thick and thin you were by his side and got his back, always and without question, without excuses. When everybody was gone, you remained, even against the odds, and you never gave up— never backed out.

“John?”

The fire finally came to life and he stood up, not knowing what to make of the situation. He was certain of what he felt but it was a different story trying to put those feelings into words. He knew he couldn't look at you right then, lest he would forget his meticulously rehearsed speech which he recalled in his head for the umpteenth time.

He knew what had to be done.

“Can we just talk for a second?” He turned to meet the sight of a very confused you, as you held two glasses of hot whiskey with cinnamon and sugar. Your eyes widened and he realized just how serious he had sounded. Well, certainly, the topic was serious but he didn't have to sound like he was about to admonish one of his subordinates. Maybe Price was right; he just needed to relax sometimes.

“Ah, yes, of course.” You sounded unsure and, maybe, a bit apprehensive as he cleared his throat and tried to smile. Receiving one of the tots you offered, you took a seat on the couch and he drank the beverage swiftly. He really would need it because the lone sensation of you close to him was driving him nuts. “So, what’s on your mind?”

Well, there were a million things going on in his head at the moment, to be honest. He wasn't sure where to begin and this wasn't what he had in mind, but he would not be able to live if he didn't get it off his chest.

“I've been… thinking these past months… about us.” That was such an effective and soothing choice of words. He saw the way your body stiffened at the ominous, typical, phrase that must have been used to death in countless soap operas to foreshadow a bad ending. John wanted to punch himself in the face for his wonderful communicative skills. Your lips let out a breathless ‘ _oh_ ’ he barely could hear and, then, there was the gesture you always made when you felt nervous. He knew this conversation was not precisely headed in the correct direction.

“Well, we've been together for some time and… you know, up to this point in our relationship I think it’s never occurred to me, until now, where this is going.” That didn't help, either, for you just began to avoid his gaze as you drank your shot of whiskey with the same rapidity he had, placing a hand on your chest once you gulped it down. He believed he saw your tongue darting out, too, as you fanned your face with your hand and he didn't know whether to laugh or cry. “I'm not sure what you'll think but I've meant to tell you this for some time.”

This shouldn't end so terribly. Or that was what he thought until you lifted a hand, sighed, and shook your head. “Look, John, you don't need to drag this on. I know what you're going to say.”

He didn't know what his face looked like, but it surely would be something along the lines of that time he was seventeen and Mrs. Paterson caught him with her daughter… and he was in only his underwear. Ah, the embarrassment of the moment, but now was not the time to recall that. “You do?”

“I mean, it'll hurt less if you just tell me that you don't want to keep doing this anymore. We're grown-ups after all, aren't we?” You fidgeted with the edge of your sweater as you looked down at your feet. “I appreciate you a lot, John. Always did. I guess, if you think this isn't working between us, there's nothing I can do to make you change your mind.” Who were you trying to kid? There were tears forming at the corner of your eyes, and you were forcing your voice to sound steady.

Things had gone awry in just one minute. Of all the things he could have said and of all the things you could have thought, this was the most unexpected. But maybe it was all he needed to muster the courage to hold your face between his hands and make you look him in the eye. Your gaze was full of pain and rejection even when he had not said a word— but what he had said had been misunderstood and he was to blame for that, too. Of all the things he would have done, hurting you never was one.

“You're such a silly girl.” He shook his head and his blue eyes showed mischief, as he placed his forehead on yours. It felt so warm by your side, so good he did not want to let go.

You snorted between hiccups, finally letting the tears go while taking a hold of his forearms. “Ah, come on, John. I'll just cry one day or two and everything will be fine. It's not the first time in history that a couple breaks up.” Even then you tried to smile for him, like you always did, and he couldn't help but feel his heart swell with love. “ _Gah_! I'm sorry I’m being such a drama queen. I’ll be fine, I pr—”

“Marry me.” Those words came out of his mouth and he didn't even know it. It wasn't until you fell silent, and gave him the most unbelievable expression of shock that he could have ever imagined, that realization dawned on him. It seemed like this was the only thing you never expected and you started to babble endlessly, growing flustered at the situation that had come about.

“What?” Your eyes were wide, and your mouth was agape, while he tried to come up with something else to say. However, he could only repeat those two words in an attempt to convince himself that he had truly said them.

“Marry me.” It felt so good to let it out, to free all those feelings and desires he had kept in secret for so long. There was such a tender understanding in your gaze as you started to giggle with glee, wiping your tears away before throwing your arms around him in a tight embrace. “Oh dear God, I feel like an idiot right now! I thought… I thought that you—”

“Well, it can still happen if you want.” The joke was meant to be harmless and as such did you take it, laughing heartfeltly. “Not that I want it, you know.”

“I do,” you mumbled against his shoulder and he had to wonder just what did you mean by that. 

His eyes narrowed and there was confusion on his face. You couldn't be serious, could you? “What? You want to break up?”

“No, silly! I want to marry you.” There was happiness in your voice as you snuggled close to him, and while he shared that joy with you there still was something bugging him. Probably the hard box poking at his leg— _ouch_ , that was it.

“Uum, I think I almost forgot to give you this.” If you could believe that. There couldn't be a proposal without an engagement ring, now could it? He did not even know how the hell did he manage to go through the ordeal of finding one. It was meant to be his way to express his love for you and he did not want to get anything less than you deserved, so he decided you were worth it— every penny that he gladly spent.

“Oh, dear Lord,” you began with a shaky voice, as you held the open velvet box in your hands, starting at his token of love with awe. “John, this is beautiful. I just—” There was nothing more you could say when he slipped it on your ring finger and you nervously laughed while he desperately hoped it would be the right fit. It was only an unfounded fear, since he had taken one of your rings to get the size for the jeweler, months ago. Not such a difficult mission, since you only seemed to wear jewelry on special occasions. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You've already said what I wanted to hear.” He squeezed your side with quite some strength and you squealed in surprise, giving him the chance to capture your lips in a kiss. The slight smell of salt lingered on your skin and it contrasted with the sweetness of smooth whiskey on your tongue. It made him hum in delight when you leaned against him and sneaked your hand to his nape, scratching his dark mohawk softly. It seemed like innocent play until he found himself pushed against the couch and you on top of him, hands roaming his strong chest as his found their way to your waist.

This wasn't precisely what he had planned but maybe that was what he needed, for a change. A carefully laid out plan had always been the norm in his life, even more so in his line of work where it represented the only effective means of survival. But when he met you, there was such an unpredictability to you that left him confused and he wanted to understand. There was always something new about you and maybe that was what drove him to go after you.

You finally parted, almost out of breath, smiling like fools. Two fools in love. Oh, the dangerous high of happiness was making him throw caution to the wind and let down his defenses. It was always like this whenever he was around you and you were the one to blame. Your smell, your touch, the curves of your soft body against his, made it all the more difficult to resist—even more so when he began to feel the heat and blood rush to his loins and the desperate need to have all of you. He couldn't keep his hands from delving beneath your clothes, slowly, until they reached the underside of your bra, his fingers itching to hold the tender mounds that were pressed against him.

“John…” You whispered with desire and he gritted his teeth, trying not to lose control and flip you over to take you wildly like a beast. How he loved it when you said his name, your eyes hazed by the pleasure you soon would feel in every inch of your body.

Suddenly, the room felt hot and it became hard to breathe as his heart pounded inside of him with brute force. It was the images playing in his mind that had him so restless and breathless, when you started to take off your clothes, coaxing him to touch you. Before long you found yourself exposed and naked, as he disposed of his own clothes and gently settled between your thighs. His body hovered above you, his strong arms supporting his weight so he wouldn't crush you, and your legs moved to embrace him, the inevitable wave of heat assailing you at the intimate closeness.

He kissed you hungrily as you explored his back, feeling every hard muscle twitch under your touch. His lips burned as they descended to your neck, his stubble scraped your skin and his teeth nipped that tender spot that had you humming with pleasure. He wasn't gentle, like other times, for his fingers gripped your hips, his face burying in the valley of your breasts. You were so warm, so soft, so alive, he couldn't stop himself from drinking in the beautiful temptation that always tormented him, for he could never get enough of you. Years had not diminished his love for you. His desire had only grown stronger and it was only your face the one he wanted to wake up to every morning, until the end of his days.

It was you. It had always been you, he realized. His heart leapt in joy as your breath caught in your throat, lips parting ever so slightly with a sigh of content and delight. Eyes closed, you threw your head back with a smile when you felt the butterflies in your stomach, your legs tingling as he kissed below your navel, drawing near to that source of heavenly abandon. Your fingers tried to grab patches of his short dark hair, in vain. They slipped through and you mewled in frustration when he only teased you, denying you that which you craved the most but not for much longer. He wouldn't be able to hold back when you begged and writhed, seeking release.

It sure was going to be a long night and he was more than eager to make it up for you. Tonight, there was no other place he would have rather been than with you. It was pure desire the one he felt, the one your body expressed as it arched in ecstasy in time with his ministrations. Your voice cracked in bliss, as one of your hands grabbed the pillow under your head and the other held his nape. It didn't take him long to bring you higher and higher until you were pleading for mercy, too sensitive to take any more of his touch.

In the dim light of the fireplace, he could see the smile that formed on your lips when you closed your eyes, sighing with mirth. As he made his way to your arms, he noticed the flushness of your damp skin, the sweetness of your breathing— how vulnerable and small you looked beneath him, how beautiful you were. After endless kisses shared, John didn't think a thousand nights would be enough to sate his need for you but he intended to make the most of every one of them.

It was going to be a long night and, for once, he did not mind.


End file.
